Fall From Grace
by Rin-Nielle
Summary: When Peeta volunteers for the 74th Hunger Games he had all intention to crown Katniss Everdeen as victor. Anything else was unthinkable. Brash idiots, rule changes and falling in love with his most threatening opponent were definitely not part of the plan. The Hunger Games will change everyone. "A fall from grace is never pretty. We never really leave the Games." Cato/Peeta
1. Dreams And Revelations

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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Chapter 1:

Dreams and Revelations

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The night before, I dream of the reaping.

I always do.

There's Liam in the crowd of young twelve year old boys, his blonde hair striking in a sea of browns and blacks. I wave a hand at him wildly and I'm filled with panic as a sense of dread rushes through me. I'm overrun with a sudden apprehension that something was going wrong, terribly. Peacekeepers stream towards me with their shields up and begin to block my view of him with plastic shields bearing the Capitol seal. I shout and push them aside but it's fruitless. I look for my older brother, Ethan, in the sea of faces and when I find him he's dressed as a Peacekeeper, jabbing me in the back with a gun. The crowd hushes and I'm granted a path that opens straight to the podium and I see Liam flash me his toothy, blinding smile. I almost sigh in relief before I see where he is.

He's on the podium, holding Effie Trinket's hand as he continues to beam. His large grey orbs are twinkling with innocence. My voice has somehow died halfway up my throat and I'm rooted to the spot, unable to save him. She's calling out his name and he just keeps smiling.

"And the male tribute, Liam Mellark …"

"No!" I yell. "You can't! He's just a child!"

The crowds come in their thousands, shaking their heads and I'm drowned, screaming.

I scare myself to consciousness and sit up, blissfully awake as I cover my face with my hands.

A dream, Peeta, that's all there is to it.

I shake the lingering thoughts out my head by splashing my face with cold water. I put my hands on either sides of the sink and examine my bedraggled reflection with a shaky exhale. Blonde hair falls over my blue eyes and help to cover the fear that's still so evident in them. I've taken after my mother's looks like my younger brother, with the light blonde hair and gentler features, whereas Ethan has inherited my father's bulkier and strong stance.

I pull on my boots, shrug on a thin jacket and sling my bow over my shoulder.

I strap the knife vest across my chest and waist and then stroke the dagger that sits loyally in my pouch. As I walk past, I push my brother's door open and see him curled in a tight, quilt lathered ball, safe and sound. It's been a long standing tradition for me to check on my younger brother before I go out to hunt. Today, especially, I need the comfort of knowing he's safe, at least until the reaping begins. I crouch next to his bed and smooth out the blonde curls from over his forehead and a smile creeps onto my face, despite the circumstances of today. I hear soft footsteps above my head and I know Ethan is awake, probably coming down to check on Liam as well. The image of him dressed as a Peacekeeper flashes briefly behind my eyes and I feel a lump developing in my throat. I clear my throat and stand back up and head outside into the chilly wind. As usual, I run past the meadow and to the supposedly electro-charged fence, passing the merchant's village and passing the starving old people in the Seam. Like always the fence lacks its hum of danger and I get down swiftly to my knees. I listen on last time for the electricity then finally fall onto my stomach, crawling my way through.

Once I'm back in the green escape, I allow myself to breath. Ironically, here, I feel safest.

The forest cover secures my hiding but I continue to keep my footsteps light as I tread over the thick roots and ferns while keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of movement. As I reach a small stream I jump over the familiar rocks and land swiftly on the other side lightly.

I spot a deer and I'm just about to pull out my knives when an arrow whistles past my head and embeds itself in the kill's eyes. If falls, twitching, and finally stills, it's glassy eyes staring at me vacantly. The signature kill is so obvious and I turn around with a smile to face Katniss, followed closely by Gale who already hauls a deer over his wide shoulders. A beam almost splits Katniss' face as she throws her free arm around my neck and gives me a quick but meaningful embrace. I never see her smile like this anywhere else. The forest is a safe haven for both of us. She gives me a look which is mirrored by Gale as he gives his usual crooked grin but I can see behind both of their smiles.

We're all scared senseless, but not for ourselves.

Each of us has younger siblings, all who are having their first year. Gale has two, Katniss and I one, all dear, all too young. I walk silently to the deer and haul it up easily with my hand free of my knife.

"Well Katniss, you've never quite played fair have you?" I say with a grin.

Katniss playfully punches my shoulder as she walks past and I wince, rubbing my shoulder.

Katniss leads the way with her sharp senses and Gale and I fall into step behind her. We're all itching to mention the reaping but we all manage to hold our tongues.

We settle down over a mountainside view of the west-side of the meadow and each pull out respective foods. Out from my pack comes a fresh cheese loaf and Gale pulls out a jar of jam whilst Katniss pulls out her small container of goat's cheese. The mood is suddenly lightened and it feels almost like every other day. This is what I want for Liam. I want to see him, in a few years' time, sitting with maybe Prim and Gale's younger brothers, free in the woods. But I know it's impossible and I tell myself to stop dreaming. Gale's two younger brothers are game enough but Liam and little Prim are positively terrified of the forest. Katniss digs into the cheese buns which we've slathered in jam and melting cheese.

"Mm, it's still warm…" she says with a moan of satisfaction.

Before we part, we exchange some items of food and gut our kill by the river. As the blood runs clean off my knife and into the otherwise pristine mountain lake, I look to my side and see Katniss and Gale having some sort of disagreement.

"I never want to have kids," Katniss says. Her eyes are distant as if she's contemplating all the possible misfortunes that could befall if she did.

"I might. If I didn't live here," Gale says and his eyes are discreetly flickering over to her.

I hide my smile by turning back to my chore.

"But you do," she retorts and there's a bitter bite to her words.

I can see the conversation is quickly going downhill and Gale looks speechless on how to save it so I cut in.

"Katniss has a point," I add in as I wipe the knife clean on my jacket. "But look at our parents. All had children eventually. The Hunger Games are always going to be around."

"And what about you?" Katniss asks. "Could you do it? Live in the fear of them being reaped?"

"Katniss, I'm gay." I say with a laugh. "I think the chances are pretty slim."

It was a year ago when I came out to my two closest friends. I'd met Katniss so long ago neither of us can quite pinpoint the year. She'd been slumped near the back of my family's bakery and I'd thrown her the bread she claims saved her life. Even now she thinks she owes it to me. The day after that we'd become easy friends and from then, I was always the 'Boy with the Bread' to her. Gale of course became outrageously jealous and confronted me just after I'd seen Katniss home and at first sight I'd developed a ridiculous crush on Gale Hawthorne, a straight guy and luckily though, a very nice straight guy. He'd laughed good-naturedly when I'd told him but told me he was straight and already had his eyes set on someone. I'd grown out of it quickly and now smile whenever I see him nervously flirting with Katniss who just never seems to catch onto a clue. From then on, I'd been secretly stuffing some stray loaves of bread away from our bakery for their families who were far worse off than my own. My mother would have murdered me if she knew of such a scheme but I'm still alive so I'll assume she's still blissfully unaware. I do have suspicions of my father knowing from time to time but he's never made comment.

I'm so stuck up in my flashback I don't realise Gale's swinging his hand in front of my face.

"Hello, Peeta, you there?"

"Huh?" I answer dumbly.

"C'mon. The reaping's about to start." He says with a sad grin. He and Katniss have already split the kill.

Before we head back we part at the fence. Gale is blushing furiously as he tries to keep a straight face. His left hand is clenching and unclenching at his sides as he's trying to figure out whether to brush a stray strand of hair from Katniss' face. After what seemed like a long internal battle he sighs dejectedly.

"Wear something pretty," he manages to say flatly.

Katniss smiles at him. He seems to find the courage to finally raise his hand when Katniss suddenly turns to me and waves a farewell and walks off. Gale lets out a deep sigh as his hand falls back to his side. He continues to watch Katniss as her slight figure sprints away and finally disappears. I walk up to him and give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Courage, man. She'll come around," I say with a grin.

Gale glares at the ground, returning back to a glum attitude.

"At this rate, we'll be all dead before she notices."

We part ways with our kill and before I know it I'm standing in the familiar aroma of baking bread. I push the back door open and shrug off my jacket, dumping the deer in the backroom. I walk down the hallway when my mother appears and blocks my path, her hands planted resolutely on her hips.

Her lips are pressed hard together but they often are when she's around me or Ethan. It seems only little Liam can escape her belittling stare. But today when I look in her eyes I almost see a glimpse of my old mother. She says in a tired voice: "He needs you," and that's all I need before I push past her gently and nudge his door open. Before I can even open my mouth I'm greeted with a bundle of blonde that practically flies into my middle and attaches there. I see Ethan sitting on Liam's bed and we share a concerned look. He gets up and lays a pat on my shoulder before closing the door behind him. Liam's shaking and his nose is cold as it presses against my thin shirt. I cradle his blonde head in my hands as I press him closer to me, stroking his combed curls softly. I sit us on the bed and put my chin on top of his head. He's already dressed in his very few good clothes with his collar tucked in the wrong way but what really gets me is his big grey eyes which are threatening to break banks. He's brave and doesn't cry but I know he's damn well close.

"Liam… oh, Liam," I whisper. "Don't be afraid."

He doesn't make a sound but his breathing is low and fast against my shirt.

"You're name is in once. You'll never get picked. There'll be so many of them, Liam. Just you see. All full to the brim."

"But Peeta," he manages to sniff. "You're name is in fifteen times."

"Liam," I say as he continues to shake his head. "Liam, look at me. It's not going to be me and it's not going to be you, one chance in a thousand."

When I finally get him to stop clinging onto me our mother's knocking on the door. I call her in reluctantly. She appears with my normal suit tucked in her arms and she walks up to me, opening her mouth.

"I'm a little busy," I say as I nod my head at Liam in my arms. "Just drape it on the chair, will you?"

She closes her mouth and does as I say for once. As she retreats I grab Liam's hand and swallow heavily. I smooth his hair and wipe his face.

"Come on. Let's go."

* * *

The night before, I dream of the reaping.

It was so real and now it finally is.

The first thing that runs through my head is: _One chance in a million._ Then he's up there, bad collar and all, Effie Trinket beckoning with her hands outstretched. One paper in a thousand runs through my head, in a bowl full to the brim. My words were nothing and they don't convince anyone. I turn my head around and I see Ethan, shaking his head with a hand over his mouth. His handsome face crumbles like thin pastry but he's so shocked not a single tear can even run down his face. He covers his eyes with his good hand and I know what he's thinking. He simply retreats into the crowd of people, head bowed. My father lets of a broken sigh and I see my mother mouthing the same word that's running through my head.

No…

Effie smiled and bats her long pink lashes as she takes his small hand. He's so terrified a smile breaks his face unconsciously. His collar is still untucked and it reminds me of all that's happened. He's so young. He'll never survive. Not Liam, who'd never hurt a fly, who still can't sleep without a candle.

_No_.

"No!" I yell. "You can't!"

A sick sense of nausea washes over me as I remember this morning in my dream, when no one listened and I was buried beneath the sea of people.

"I volunteer!" I bellow, my voice echoing over the silence.

There's a dead silence. It's followed by heads all swivelling my way like a wave.

Liam finally finds me in the crowd and his mouth silently whispers my name like a prayer.

There's absolutely no sound except for Effie Trinket's hearty squeal into the microphone. She claps her hands together and lets go of Liam's hand immediately. Liam's shouting and squirming but I'm relieved to see Gale come forward and take him in his arms, throwing a hand over his mouth before he says anything that would condemn us all. He nods at me solemnly and takes a step back as Peacekeepers step forward. I look around and can no longer find Ethan, or mother, or father or Katniss. The only thing is pure white as Peacekeepers swarm around me and grab hold firmly of my arms. They just but drag me onto the podium as my feet are lead and I can barely control my nerves, let alone my body. I force my best smile on as the cameras all zoom on me but it slides off as soon as I catch sight on Effie Trinket. She smiled almost warmly at me and takes my right hand. It's surprisingly warm and I grasp it tightly just for the comfort. My fingers are shaky as they lace through hers.

"Well, isn't this most interesting!" She says breathlessly. "A volunteer! Well this is just wonderful! What's your name, mister?"

"Peeta, Peeta Mellark." I'm surprised how smoothly that falls out.

"Well, Peeta, I'd bet that boy just then was your brother!"

Silence. I catch sight of Liam who's watching me from behind Gale's hand that still covers his mouth. His eyes are begging me but what choice do I have? My throat tightens and I'm forced to clear it.

"Yes," I whisper and I have to repeat myself for the mike to catch it. "Yes, he's twelve."

"Touching," Effie says and quickly turns away. "Now, for the ladies! Any volunteers?"

She's huffs in disappointment as no one makes a sound. She sinks her hand into the tokens and swirls her fingers around tauntingly before snatching one up dramatically. I catch sight of the name before she even reads it out and my heart jumps to my throat because I know what's going to happen.

The odds have not been in our favour.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

Effie Trinket must have read it aloud because Katniss is screaming before Prim can even move. Effie can barely contain her excitement. Two volunteers from her district and she's absolutely ecstatic. Gale is too slow to Prim and the poor girl is wailing behind her sister, clutching at the pale blue silk fabric of her dress. I vaguely remember Gale telling Katniss to 'wear something pretty'. She really does look beautiful. Katniss is trying to shake her off, speaking to her gruffly but I can hear her voice breaking. Prim is finally pushed off by a Peacekeeper and she falls back into Gale, clutching a fragment of fine blue silk ribbon that tore off with her desperate hands. Gale gives Katniss his handsome, crooked smile and says something I can't hear. Effie trots in her high heels that clack along the floor and takes Katniss' hand like it's her saviour. Her perfect lips stretch into a blinding smile and she fans herself with her hand.

"Oh! This is just so exciting!" she says so loudly that the microphone squeaks. "Come on darling, hurry now. We haven't got all day."

She raises Katniss onto the podium and I finally catch Katniss' eyes. We're both speechless. Despite everything, I think of Gale, Gale who is now carrying two sobbing siblings and watching Katniss and I with shock. His gaze lingers on Katniss and I see his mask almost crumble with pain.

"Beautiful! I bet all my buttons that was your younger sibling too. Don't want them to steal all the glory, do we? Now, a round of applause to our tributes!" she says triumphantly clapping her own hands together delicately.

There's no sound apart from the sniffling of Prim who has still not calmed down. To their credit, no one in District Twelve claps. Not even a stray person that happens to slips and I know why.

Who hasn't seen Liam in the Bakery, stealing frosting from my cakes, or Prim who daily sells her goat's cheese in market? Who hasn't bought from our daily haul or stared at the pretty cakes in the Bakery window, wistful for what only the rich can afford? The cakes are all the goodness that exists in our district and although hardly anyone can afford it, they're still beautiful to look at. Somewhere between the silence there's a lone person that raises three fingers up to her lips and then to the wind. Then comes a second man, who I've seen buy bread. I give him discounts because he's got one too many mouths to feed, just like everyone else. Is this his thank you? They're followed by others we've encountered, or know personally, then by others that have never even heard our names. The gesture has not been seen in decades, not since everyone lost love and trust was hard to gain. I lose Liam in the crowd of limbs but Haymitch slaps me out of my daze by collapsing onto Effie Trinket and taking the mike from her.

He's brandishing a whiskey bottle by the neck and burps into the mike before even getting a word out.

He claps Katniss on the shoulder then ruffles up my hair. He holds up the bottle as if toasting to the cameras, a cynical smile gracing his drunken features. I briefly wonder how long it's been since he was last sober.

"To, the Capitol!" he slurs as Effie Trinket struggles to adjust her wig. "They've sure fished out a fine lot this year! Lots of…"

He pauses and mutters as if he's trying to find the word. He takes a swig of whiskey and hiccups before he suddenly brightens mockingly.

"Spunk! Yes, that's the word! Spunk. Lots of spunk! More than you!" he shouts crazily, walking forward to the cameras which are undoubtedly trained on his face before tumbling off the podium.

As they carry him out, screaming and tied down to a stretcher Katniss and I manage to catch each other's gazes again before the Capitol Anthem starts, finishes and then we are rushed in opposite directions. Peacekeepers on either side of me fill me with nausea and I'm escorted quietly through hallways and finally into an expensively lavished room. The door slams behind me and I look around. Before I get to take a seat the door opens and Gale bursts in. He's no longer holding Liam or Prim and fright runs through me.

"Where—?"

"Don't worry, he's safe, they both are. He's coming in a second." He says levelly. "I haven't got much time, but I promise, I'll take care of them. Don't you worry, Peeta."

"Katniss…"

He looks pained.

"I know, Peeta. I'll be talking to her soon. Stay together and you'll do fine. I have confidence in the both of you." He says, looking rather lost all of a sudden. "You'll be fine. A good show, that's all they want."

"I'll be doing everything I can to bring her back for you." I say, staring at him levelly.

"I can't comprehend this, both of you, gone by the end of the day," he starts but the door opens and two Peacekeepers enter. "Peeta, just remem—…!"

He's abruptly cut off as Peacekeepers shove him through the door and slam the door again. Remember what?

The door opens again and this time it's Liam, followed closely by Ethan, then my parents. Liam seems to be lost for words and simply croaks a little and wraps his arms around my middle like there's no tomorrow. I remind myself I may never see him again, any of them, and with that thought in mind, I cling onto him, running my hand through the golden hair so much like my own. Minutes pass this way and I think the Peacekeepers must pity us to give us so much time. As Liam breaks away Ethan opens his long arms and pulls me to his strong chest. I bask in the comfort and strength he offers.

"I would have gone for you, Peeta, I'm sorry."

"This isn't your fault," I say. "Don't fret, old man." I add playfully and he almost smiles. "Take care of him. Don't let him get near the furnace."

My father steps forward and doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He simply wraps his arms around my one last time and pats me on the mother however stares at me with her usual cynical gaze but once again something stirs behind those eyes that resemble mine so fiercely.

"Maybe District Twelve will finally have a real winner," she says and pauses as if she wants to say something else.

There no time because the Peacekeepers come and begin to horde them out. I wonder who she meant. It couldn't possibly have been me. Liam struggles and breaks free, running to me one last time.

"Come back, Peeta, please. Promise me, please." He stammers.

"I promise."

He looks relieved as though he actually believes me. Promises mean nothing now, all empty.

"Don't change, Peeta."

"I promise."

All empty.

He's taken away.

* * *

After dinner, we watch the Reaping on the tributes train.

I sit side-by-side to Katniss, our shoulders touching as we each hold a mug of hot chocolate. Unconsciously, our hands find each other's and we hold discreetly. Katniss has been quiet so far. To anyone else this is nothing new, but I'm her closest friend and I can tell she's missing our third partner. There is an unspoken connection between the two of them and she's feeling its absence now. An artificial fire burns warmth around the spacious train compartment and a projected picture shows in high definition the District One tributes.

A bronze-haired boy volunteers without hesitation and a confident smile graces his handsome face which then drops straight off as a beautiful blonde is reaped. Marvel, his name is, hers Glimmer. She briefly notices him with a glance of sorrow but he looks horrified as she steps onto the podium beside him. The conceited boy that stepped on stage has disappeared, to be replaced by a nervous, gobsmacked young boy. I briefly wonder what the history between them is. Unrequited love? Next is District Two and the girls are this time reaped first. The ceremony is quick and a girl and boy volunteer almost immediately. Clove, the girl, is lively and pretty in a childish way but I see stealth and danger behind her eyes. It's for the boy however does my heart jump to my throat. Blonde hair, a shade lighter than mine falls over confident, gold-brown eyes. Cato, his name is. My heart is jumping beats and my breathing is quickening and Katniss notices because she nudges me playfully with her shoulder and waggles her eyebrows. I blush to the roots of my hair and she laughs over the steam of her hot chocolate but the moments already gone because the screen has switched to District Three.

District Eleven show the biggest surprises, a towering boy (more like man) that seems to part the crowd with his size alone. He's then followed by a small girl and Katniss' eyes glaze over for a second. We both expect someone to volunteer, a sister, a brother.

No one does.

Then our District appears and the room falls into a hush.

I see myself, in shock and then I'm stunned into action. I plea and then I volunteer. Katniss does the same. I'm relieved we don't look weak. Neither of us shed a tear. They show the three-fingered solute, only briefly and totally cut out Haymitch's little speech. Only feature him falling off the podium edge. Probably for comic relief since our whole district is so stony-faced. The anthem is played again.

"You're mentor had a lot to learn about presentation!" Effie huffs, touching her wig self-consciously in remembrance.

"He was drunk," I say mater-of-factedly with a laugh. "He's always drunk."

Katniss clinks her chocolate mug with mine with a laugh.

"When's the last time anyone has seen Haymitch sober?" she adds with a real smile.

Effie has a small temper fit right there, screaming about the Hunger Games and the importance of mentors when Haymitch walks in, as if on cue and burps.

"I miss supper?" he slurs.

He stumbles around aimlessly, before vomiting all over the expensive hideous rug and then collapsing into his own bile. Katniss and I burst out laughing. Effie jumps up and tip-toes around in her ridiculous heels.

"So laugh away!" she screeches before adjusting her wig and strutting out.

"C'mon," I start, nodding my head at Haymitch who is struggling to rise from his vomit.

Sighing, she helps with one arm under his armpits and we haul him to his room. Katniss stops outside the bathroom door with her hands up defensively.

"Katniss, c'mon, give me a hand."

"Nu-uh, Peeta. He can take his own shower." She says with a grin. "You're too kind, you know that, right?"

"You owe me for this," I grumble as I wrench Haymitch into the bathtub.

He's already snoring.

I grab the shower nozzle and point it at his face, turning on the cold water to maximum. As it hits his face he jerks awake and I hear Katniss laugh amusedly from the door. He stares at us to, looking much like a soaked sloth.

"I miss dinner?"

We (although it's more of a one-sided effort) eventually gingerly peel off all his clothes and manage to slather his hair in some sweet-smelling liquid that bubbles when making contact with his wet hair. He dozes off several times, each time taking a swift face full of water from either Katniss or myself. Eventually he sobered up to an extent and chucked his whiskey bottle at us to signify a request for privacy to wash up. Relieved, we happily complied. We decide to retire for a break in Katniss' room until curfew. When we finally entered her compartment our mouths fall open at an artificial sunset that has been plastered to the wall opposite a king-sized bed. We ignore the bed and instead sit side by side at its foot. I grab the remote on her bedside table and the scenery switches to District 12, bland grey colours and all. I quickly change the channel again and it lands on an illusion of a being within a rich green forest. We share a knowing look and leave this on, finally taking a seat on her bed.

Katniss pulls her leg up to her chest and wraps her two arms around them.

"What were the odds?" she sighs with a half-hearted snort. "Both of them in their first year…"

"Could you imagine either of them in our place though?" I remark. "We've done the right thing."

"I can't imagine Prim going against that giant from eleven, or the boy from two." Katniss says with a shake of her head. "Or even any other of the tributes for that matter."

I flush immediately at the mention of Cato and quickly put a hand over one cheek to prevent the burn. My antics don't go unnoticed by the keen Katniss and she leaps forward like a predatory cat.

"Peeta! You like him, don't you?" she says, sitting back with a smirk as if she's already won the games.

I barely get time to react because she'd making kissing noises in my ear and clutching her cheeks. I throw her onto her back and tickle her sides mercilessly.

"Well, I'd say the same about you with Gale, wouldn't I?"

I don't have time to take back the words and they're like a slap in the face for both of us. Her hand has flitted up and is now clutching protectively at something that lies beneath her blue silk dress. We come to a stop with our childish act and I pull her up with a hand. She looks so disheartened all of a sudden and beyond her hard shell I see a glimpse of the girl that I threw the bread to so many years ago, before she toughened and learned to put up her walls. I grab the hand that's still defensively clutching the fabric around her chest in a bundle and she slowly releases. She pulls out a necklace with a pure-gold pin strung at the end. I recognise the bird immediately from our many mornings in the forest. A mockingjay glints proudly in the dim light of the room and I finger the pin needle on its back.

"From Gale?" I question.

Her silence is answer enough.

"He came to see me and strung it on. Told me it'd be like he was watching my back."

Her lips are pursed and I can tell that's not all he said.

"What else, Katniss?" I say quietly. "You can tell me."

There's silence as she seems to contemplate something, eyes hard.

"He told me he loved me," she says and she looks away now, pursing her lips so tightly together they lose all colour. "He said nothing would change that and he wanted me to remember that."

I don't put my arm around her and I don't whisper her promises that it'll be alright. They'd be all empty anyways and Katniss isn't one for that. We three, Katniss, Gale and I have grown the same. Sorrow is mended by silence and quiet companionship. My heart aches for Gale as I remember his previous words. "We'll all be dead when she notices…" His joke hits hard as I realise it must have been exactly like that for him. He'd waited so long for the chance and when it finally came, she was on death's door. Wordlessly, I bring my hands behind her neck and unclasp it from the back. It comes off with a clink and falls in my hands. She watches me warily as I slip the badge from its necklace hold and find the breast pocket on her dress. I weave it into the thin fabric and then clipped it on with a quiet 'chink'. It catches the light and reflects a glow onto the ceiling and Katniss releases her usual melodic laugh as she stares at the ceiling in wonder.

We part close to midnight after a lengthy talk about forcing some help from our drunken mentor. We come to agreement that if it comes down to it, we'll have to knock some sense into him, force advice out of him somehow.

My mind is plagued with Career tributes.

I can't help but wonder how the odds are in no way in our favour.

* * *

TBC…?

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah. I don't even know whether to continue this or not. If I get even one request I will…

I've been reading fanfiction for a while now and although my grammar and general skill at writing is terrible I've decided to give it a try. I regret it already. OTL Constructive criticism is loved and I'm always willing to learn so reviews are loved to death.

Please review?


	2. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Chapter 2:

First Impressions

* * *

I don't sleep well that night.

Although I retire to bed early, I don't sleep until well past midnight and my dreams are plagued with the games.

The bloodbath is over but Katniss is nowhere to be seen.

I have to find her, protect her and at least have her back. I watch through the shrubbery as the Careers pull along a girl by her hair. It's a brunette and she's struggling, putting up quite a good fight by the looks of it. Her back is to me but I see the face of her captor clearly as he turns to face me. It's Cato, his hair tips tinged red with blood and his handsome face blemished with a cruel grin. He waves a sword tauntingly and the girl makes a choked sound. Clove, the smallest career, takes out a knife from her vest and grabs the girls face roughly by the chin, tilting it up to meet her. Minutes later, after a strange gurgle, a pink muscle falls to the blood-stained soil. The captive babbles something unintelligible and I realise with sickening horror that they've cut off her tongue. Clove laughs and stomps the disconnected muscle with the heel of her foot as the others laugh alongside her.

"Like the dirty avox you are. Scum," she says with a laugh and spits at the girl's feet.

Cato then raises the girl higher by her hair until she's one her knees and that's when I see the signature braid of hair he's clutching.

It can't be.

He pulls back his sword and swings and with a ghastly squelch the head detaches from her body. Cato raises it to eye level and then tosses the head away carelessly with a scoff. The body slumps to the side with a thud and blood pours from where the head should be attached, vomiting crimson all over the grass. What's most disturbing however is the head they've discarded rolls aimlessly to me and finally lands on its bloodied stump, staring at me right in the face with eerily empty eyes. All the beauty is gone.

It's Katniss.

I awake and a scream is halfway up my throat. I'm too horrified to do even that.

I'm hit with everything in a nauseating realisation. This is the Hunger Games, the fucking Hunger Games, Peeta. Don't let a stupid crush delusion you from your goal.

One survivor and I plan to send Katniss home.

She has a loving family who needs her and she'll help Gale, I know she will. Who do I have to go home to anyways? They don't need me. Liam will be devastated, will mourn my death but he'll move on. My father will release a dispirited sigh because I was always his favourite. Ethan will grieve but he'll find a nice girl and marry, inherit the Bakery as the oldest son. Mother will be fine without me, just one less mouth to feed. Katniss has people who need her and I intend to make her the one victor. She and Gale will remember me fondly as the 'Boy with the Bread' and they'll settle. Katniss and Gale will never forgive themselves for my death but they'll have each other and it'll be enough. I'm so easily wiped out of the picture it's as if I was never there. But all this tells me one thing.

Stay clear of Cato.

When I've finished washing my face, déjà vu floods me as I remember the morning of the reaping. Bye the time Effie's telling me to get "Up, up, up!" and that I'm going to have a "Big, big, big day!" I'm already wide awake and the gears in my head turning crazily.

I simply slip on the cold shirt from yesterday and stumble down the hallway. I almost try and find Liam's room to check on him. The steadiness of the Capitol train has made me temporarily forget my situation and where I am. Katniss and I enter the dining room at the same time and I smile as I see the mockingjay pin that glints brightly in the morning light that streams through the windows.

I'm glad to see she's pinned it back on.

Effie walks into the room already clacking away in different heels and as she sees Haymitch, she adjusts her wig. Huffing, she exits the room with a quick "I'll be back later!" Haymitch is lounging his feet on the table which is lavished with delicious steaming food. Katniss and I exchange amazed looks and Haymitch gestures at us to sit. He's swinging around a bottle of liquor he's specially ordered and Katniss gives me a nod affirmative and I discreetly wheel away the liquor trolley with a foot and gesture at a waiter to take it away. Haymitch is so hammered he doesn't even notice. Katniss and I take seats opposite him in the plush chairs and we're presented with elegantly set out dishes that are plentiful with food. Katniss and I dig in immediately and ignore Haymitch who hiccups every now and then.

After I've cleared everything I turn to our mentor with a mocking grin and rest my chin on a propped elbow.

"Sleep well, Haymitch?"

Katniss muffles her laugh with a cough over her drink. Haymitch just glares at me darkly which has absolutely no effect since his liquor is pouring out of his suspended glass and staining the pure white rug. As soon as he catches on the wine is gone and the rug well-destroyed.

"Fuck! My wine. Waiter!" he says with a drunken click of his fingers. "Liquor!"

I chuckle again and he finally catches on, glaring at me.

"You little shit," he says but I can see amusement behind his eyes. "Stealing my liquor beneath my nose. Trust me, Peeta, my boy; I'll be much better company with my ass well hammered."

He waves his empty glass around.

"And you know I didn't sleep well last night. Why was that? I was high like a kite and hammered off my ass, that's why. You little shits knew it too. I remember you," he says, pointing a finger at Katniss. "Ruthlessly spraying me with water and you," he gestures back at me. "Taking my clothes off."

"That's all you can remember of me, Haymitch," I simper with mock hurt. "But we made so many fond memories."

Haymitch is regarding us both now with wary yes and he reminds me vaguely of a squinting beaver protecting his wooden stick home at the river back home. Probably guarding his liquor is the only difference. He finally settles the glass on the table and leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers impatiently.

"So, with all this attempt to steal my liquor I suppose you don't go to all this trouble into getting me sober for nothing, eh?" he says and smiles sardonically. "What can I do for you?"

"We want advice," Katniss says. "On the games."

"Here's some fucking advice! Stay alive," Haymitch says with a roaring laugh and suddenly the humour is all gone from our conversation.

All that's left is a pulsing anger that I'd never would have guessed existed in me. Katniss feels it too and it's reflected in her burning eyes. Haymitch has picked up his glass and is snapping his fingers for the waiter again. The man from before walks in and glances apologetically at me before wheeling in the assortments of iced wine with shaky hands. He just manages to pour Haymitch half a glass when suddenly Katniss acts out on her anger and stands up, slugging him across the jaw. He falls back in his chair but somehow manages to drive himself back forward whilst losing only a drop of his wine. He laughs uproariously at us mockingly and hardly catches on before I've grabbed the table cloth and heaved the dirty plates right in his face. The waiter is hysteric now and runs off to probably get Effie. Haymitch roars "My wine!" and manages to save some by drinking half the contents. By now his cup is half empty and there's a considerable amount left and he settles it on the table.

He realises his mistake by then and lunges for it but Katniss throws a butter knife and it embeds itself between his two splayed fingers just as they were reaching for the glass neck.

I take the glass casually and swiftly drink the contents with small toast in his direction afterwards.

The liquid burns on its way down my throat and leaves a bitter taste. We both expect him to start raving at us and order another glass but to our surprise and gratitude he simply sits back and examines us with those squinting beaver eyes. I decide he's in his best mood when he looks like that. The waiter crawls back in with his trolley but Haymitch waves him away.

"Well, well, well," he says. "Have I actually gotten a pair of fighters this year?"

"Hunters," I correct determinedly. "We're not trained for the games. We hunt game."

"Humans, animals, same difference," Haymitch says with a wave of his hand. "Now, sweetheart, can you hit anything apart from the table?"

Katniss scowls unattractively at him and sits back down so I decide to answer for her.

"Yes. She's skilled with the bow and arrow. Not bad with the knives too but totally rubbish with the swords," I add and I get kicked under the table for that.

"Peeta's best with knives and anything 'heavy-duty', including the swords and axes and he carries sacks of flour at his family's bakery. He's the strongest person I know. He refuses to admit I'm better but he's not bad at archery himself." She says as I sit back down.

Haymitch squints at us a bit more and finally gives us a wide, genuine if not a little sarcastic smile. He stands up and begins to order us around and Katniss and I share a look. Even though this 'friendly Haymitch' is freaking us out, this is much better progress.

"Stand up and face me," he says whilst prodding me in the back. "I've got to give you the 'Haymitch Approval'."

"Yeah," Katniss says sarcastically. "I bet everyone's queuing up for the 'Haymitch Approval'."

After a period of touching, tugging of hair and general invasion of privacy, Haymitch stands back and nods his 'approval'.

"You're a good-looking pair. You'll be 'Capitol material' when they're done with you so we don't have to worry about hooking in some rich, shallow-minded Capitol sponsors. But here's the deal. You," he says, gesturing at me. "Won't be consuming any more of my alcohol. Liquor, my children, is a terrible, terrible demon, absolutely destroys the looks. Better stay away!"

He chuckled at his own private joke of hypocrisy and we roll our eyes.

"Also, you two buggers stay out of my liquor business and I might maybe stay sober enough to stay awake for half the trip. Hint children, the word _'maybe'_. Then, hopefully for a small portion of this 'sober' time you might be able to wheedle some tips from me. Mind you, these tips can only be obtained through sucking up and lots of alcohol bargains. Keep in mind also that these 'sober' times will be short and far between. Now, folks, do we have a deal?" he says with a smile, sardonically holding out a hand.

Behind his drunken façade I actually begin to see a man trying to finally put in the effort so I choose to ignore the constant use of 'maybe' being sober. Katniss and I share a look before nodding. As we shake hands with him Effie Trinket walks through the door looking so 'Capitol' with her make-up, still adding a light fluff of powder onto her cheeks. Then her eyes land on the knife that's tightly embedded in the table.

"That is mahogany!"

* * *

"Now, in a few minutes, we'll be pulling up into the station. There, you'll be in the hands of the stylists. Peeta, you'll have Portia and Katniss, you'll be with Cinna."

I nervously recall the naked tributes from a few years ago and I swallow thickly. I hope this 'Portia' isn't a lunatic that likes to see young people nude.

"Now both of you, I want to see some razzle dazzle and shit, you hear? Oh shit, quick, it's coming!"

He pushes us to the windows and that's when we're hit with the true splendour of the Capitol.

They definitely weren't lying about its beauty and grandeur.

Sky-scrapers fill the clouds and went on for miles, multi-coloured flashing lights were blinding in the sun that was a little too perfect, just the right shade of yellow and orange. I'm so mesmerised by the sky that when I finally look down I do a double take. That's when I see the crowds and the freakish fluoro people. They all begin to point and scream as they see us and unfortunately the one thing that frightens Katniss the most is people and she backs away immediately, falling into a sofa. I slide the window open and the sound is then deafening. I plaster on my most charming smile and wave at them, shouting the words 'District Twelve' above all the racquet. I can already see some people wildly taking down notes and I give them a full-blown smile and even blow them a kiss. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Katniss staring at me in shock and Haymitch nodding his approval. The crowd disappears as we are pulled into the station and Katniss finally peeks out from her corner.

"Courage, children," Haymitch says with a laugh. "You're going to need it."

* * *

The first thing I can register is intense pain, blinding pain.

I grit my teeth at first and eventually stuff my hand into my mouth but neither technique brings me much relief. All I can do is save myself some dignity and male pride by not screaming and whimpering like a baby. The legs and arms were okay, just bearable. It was when they started working on my nether and most private regions; stripping them of hair, did I finally lose it. Was this really necessary? Who would be looking down there? Besides, all my hair was blonde so was it really noticeable? Luckily though, all that escaped were a few groans and moans and the occasional yelp when my hand strayed from my mouth. A man with his bright pink hair tied up in an elaborate ponytail tutted at me as he plucked another one of my eyebrows.

"Such a handsome boy, such neglect!" he crows to his partner who nods her head as if it was the saddest thing in the world.

As I continue to listen to their chatter I begin to realise appearances probably were their only issues and complaints in life.

The pink-haired man I discover to be Fortune and his partner Rose. Rose is surprisingly normal, her hair a beautiful natural shade of bronze-blonde, a few shades darker than my own. Although she speaks like a Capitol resident her talk is a little more understandable to me than Fortune's. I discover later that the third wheel of our prep team could not make it.

Rose speaks fondly of District one and I discover from then on that it's her hometown and she came here after many years of hard work on her parents account. After all the waxing, plucking, washing and polishing, I deem them alright people, a little bit shallow-minded, easily-distracted but tolerable. They seem to love me. I later understand that 'prettiest boy buried under grime I've seen in ages!' is their strange way of complimenting me.

I'm sent to a plain room and they kiss me goodbye, waving madly as the door closes on them. I can't help but smile.

I feel vulnerable and attempt to cover my naked stinging body, managing only to find a few towels sitting innocently on a rack. I wrap one tentatively around my waist and take a seat on the gold bench, wincing as the cool metal hits my throbbing skin. I wait for maybe ten minutes and by that time the sting on my raw skin has died down to an unbearable itch.

I can't figure out which is worse.

The woman that enters shocks me with her periwinkle hair that is gracefully done up in soft curls on her head. Apart from that however, she looks normal, her skin natural with a light dust of sparkling foundation. She's got a rich light brown shade to her skin that reminds me vaguely of hot chocolate. Her willowy form is clothed with a plain light gold dress shirt that matches her hair strangely and her lips seem to be free of any alterations. She's brimming with a natural beauty that can only be from a mix between Capitol and the districts, like Katniss.

I decide to like her. She smiles warmly and opens her arms to me for a hug. After a quick embrace she lets go and hold me at arm's length, like a mother examining her matured child fondly.

"And you must be Peeta," she breathes with a smile. "Fortune and Rose are absolutely raving about you. Then again, everything seems to excite them." She says with a chuckle. "Now, what to do about coal?"

I'm suddenly jittery. I'm not going to be naked and covered I soot am I?

I cover my mouth with both my hands as I realise I've said that out loud. My face flushes.

"No, no!" she laughs and gestures me to sit. "Cinna and I specifically asked for your district. We come from there, you see?"

"You do?"

"We'll I wasn't there for long. My mother lived in Seam but my father was of Capitol descent, very wealthy. He fell in love with her but their relationship was taboo. Threatened to run away together and they did, to District 12. I was born there. Unfortunately though, my father died in a mining accident and my grandparents on his side eventually took my mother in. Wanted to raise me as a Capitol child it seemed," she recounted.

"I'm sorry," I say, grabbing her hand. "About your father, but at least you're happy here."

"I never fit in. There hasn't been a day where I haven't dreamt of going back."

"You don't want to, trust me. It's probably not how you remember it. A dump is what it is and the coal fumes fill the entire sky in day," I say with a homesick laugh. "But... it's still home."

Portia's watching me intently and I stare at her quizzically.

"That was it, Peeta, exactly there. That should be your tactic to play the game. Be honest Peeta and stay yourself. The Capitol loves a sweet talker, the loveable boy."

"What about the ruthless killer?" I reply with a sigh. "There's always one of those."

"They'll get all the sponsors at first but they appear so tough they hardly ever get actual gifts. The Capitol loses interest in them eventually, Peeta."

She stands up and claps her hands together, the fondness in her eyes now replaced by a cunningness.

"Now, speaking of sponsors, Cinna and I want to go out with a bang, show the inner flame. Have to make you unforgettable."

I swallow heavily at her devious tone but it's her next question that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Peeta? You afraid of fire?"

* * *

When I'm all prepped up, I'm unrecognisable, at least to myself. Portia and my prep team are convinced I was 'hiding behind years of grime and bread crumbs'. Ever since I've shared the fact that I'm born into a Bakery, I've been repeatedly attacked with bread jokes. I run a finger over the gold eye-liner they've applied with a light hand. They've definitely gone for a fierce and dominating appeal but they've kept the colour of my eyes, which Portia claims is my greatest asset.

"They have kindness in them, Peeta," she'd said with a smile and she applies the foundation onto my forehead. "Capitol loves a brutal tribute but it's kindness and goodness that really appeals to everyone's best nature. They'll love you."

We're dressed in tight leather outfits that come from top to bottom, accompanied by lace up animal skin boots that go mid-thigh. I feel strangely exposed as a see how tightly everything is hugging my body. I feel as if once I bend over my pants are going to tear straight down the middle. Oh_, great_. Now I've probably jinxed myself.

"Are you sure this portrays goodness?" I say hesitantly, covering my ass self-consciously.

Portia slaps my hands away and laughs. Then she delicately places the black crown so it sits snugly into my blonde hair that they've let fall around my face and into my left eye. They've sprayed my hair with some kind of dust that now glints gold and a silver-black in the light and creates an illusion of a halo around my head. As I go up to pat my own hair in wonder Portia slaps my wandering hand away with another tut. Portia then pulls out a black cape patterned with crocodile hide and secures it on my shoulders, staggering me slightly with its weight. I examine it and see Portia's eyes glinting with mischievousness and I inhale sharply. I back up quickly, hands out.

"No…" I start. "No, no, no, no. You're not setting the cape on fire. The chariot, fine, but the cape's goddamn attached to me, Portia!"

"Oh don't be such a queen, Peeta!" she waves it off and begins to drag me out with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Just wait, you'll be sweeping up the ash remains of your tributes before we even make it to the Games…" I mumble.

Fortune, Rose and Portia stand around holding glasses of a shimmering blue wine and giggle as they ask me to turn around and bend over a few times. By the time they've finished cracking bread jokes and gushing about how changed I look, my face is on fire with embarrassment. We're pulled into a clearing where multiple chariots are lined up already, in order of the districts where some of the tributes are already seated in with their stylists still bustling over last minute preparations. I see Eleven, Ten and Nine already sitting and I'm not surprised. The first few districts always take the longest time to get ready. I hear my name called out and as I turn around I see Katniss and I'm blown away. I grab her by the arms and laugh in disbelief, spinning her around.

"What have you done to Katniss Everdeen?" I say with a disbelieving laugh. "Imposter."

"Well, you do look rather handsome yourself, Peeta Mellark." She says with a grin. "And I'll be taking that as a compliment."

Gale will be undoubtedly watching this broadcast. The other districts have turned to look at us and are narrowing their eyes but I can't seem to bring myself to care right now. Just wait until our ash remains are blowing in the wind. Then they'll be really staring. We're guided carefully into our chariot which is last and Cinna and Portia drape our cloaks at the back to the ignite machine. Portia smiled and pats my ass through the cloak and gives me a pointed look.

"Show off your assets, Peeta!" she says with a laugh and departs with Cinna.

"What do you think about the fire?" Katniss asks with a nervous smile.

"I'll ripe of your cape if you ripe off mine…" I reply grimly and she bursts into her musical laughter. "Where the hell is Haymitch? Isn't he even going to attend our fire show?"

Tributes are turning to us in disbelief as we continue to joke back and forth.

"With all the alcohol in him, I doubt it advisable for him to even be around us."

Our laughs are drained away as the opening music begins.

Chariot by chariot is wheeled through and we watch as their entrances are all singularly projected in front of us. My nerves grow as each district is called.

District one, full of splendour and beauty definitely set out high standards. One by one the crowds begin to die down in noise as the displays begin to become less extravagant. I gulp and wonder if by the time we're out it'll be just complete silence. Our chariots start with a jolt and the whinnying of our coal-black horses are completely drowned out by the deafening roar of Capitol citizens.

They sit and stand in a raised stadium but many are already on their feet. They're all pointing and jumping and it takes me a few seconds to realise what's going on. I see from the side of my eyes the flickering of black and red flames. They're licking the chariot and our arms but I don't feel a thing and I'm relieved. I see the relief in Katniss' eyes too and when I offer her my hand she takes it and gives it a squeeze affirmative. Then I raise our joined hands up into the air of falling confetti and the crowd roars. I see ourselves projects on screen after screen and I begin to feel exhilarated, as if we actually had a chance. Katniss and I get as much as we can from the attention, blowing kisses and putting on our best show smiles. When we get to City Circle the crowd has still not died down and I'm shocked as a few roses land in our path.

They're trotted on by the horse's hooves but the throwers get a small fragment of our attention and this seems to make them go nuts.

The chariots make a final loop together and when we're in the safety of the raining centre again Portia and Cinna are spraying our coats with mist that after settling left the cloaks in sparkling conditions. The Capitol never fails to surprise me. Fortune is absolutely ecstatic and is gushing his praise to me and Katniss. Katniss still hasn't released my hand and I can tell she's terrified of Fortune. I smile and nod at his words of praise but my eyes are caught by a golden chariot that has just pulled in. The two riders are decorated with plates of yellow and orange like a pair of gladiators and the girl's eyes dart to watch me immediately and they're followed by two gold-flecked eyes that pin me down.

Clove is giving me a challenging smirk but Cato's absolutely no smiles. It's like he's staring right through and killing me inside. I nervously tighten my hold on my partners hand and she joins my line of sight.

District Two's stylists are coming forward to give praise but Cato takes no notice of them and simply shoves his prep team aside carelessly and makes a beeline for us. Clove follows behind him but her eyes reflect amusement whereas Cato is simply unreadable, pure anger and tension. As he stops in front of me I realise he's a good half-head taller than me but as he stands with his arms crossed, I feel as if he towers over me by metres. His eyes register our clasped hands and he sneers.

"What's this?" he quips. "Lovers? Perfect timing to start getting cosy."

Katniss and I quickly let go of each other's hands and I see her flush angrily, hands clenching at her sides.

"You shouldn't talk of things you don't understand," Katniss retorts edgily.

Cato totally disregards her and instead focuses his eyes on me.

"You'd better keep a tight hold on her, Twelve, or I might just steal her away from you," he says with an arrogant smile. "Cut off that feisty tongue of hers while I'm at it."

Katniss stiffens beside me and I hear our stylists finally come to a hush and turn to watch us. Some nearby tributes have stopped to watch us with nervous, guarded looks. Some take a hasty step back as if their proximity will pull them into a fight. Cinna is regarding the scene with watchful eyes but he doesn't make any sign of interference. Cato smirks. He thinks he's actually gotten the better of me. I take a step forward into his personal bubble and feign innocence.

"I'm sorry, what was the last part? I couldn't hear over your inflated ego," I start with a critical eye. "Arrogance isn't your best look, Cato, might want to try another approach before you take on more than you can chew."

His eyes harden but his lips stretch into a sarcastic smile. It doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Is that a threat, Twelve?"

"What do you think?" I ask with a pointed look. I raise my hand that's covered in glitter and pat his face with it fondly. Little flecks of gold stick to his skin and I have to fight down the urge to laugh. "Don't hurt yourself, big boy."

"Why, you little fucking bitch—"

"Excuse me!" a voice hollers and for a second I'm terrified it's a Peacekeeper. It's entirely illegal for fights between tributes before the games. Fortunately, it's only Haymitch, swinging a bottle around. Cato has his hand fisted in my outfit collar and was just about ready to slam me into a wall when Haymitch comes between us and detaches me from Cato's clasp. Cato's so shocked he actually releases his hold and takes a step back. I can tell Haymitch isn't drunk off his ass as he regards me with focused eyes, prodding me with a finger. He's making a pretty good act of it though.

"Trust you two," he says wildly gesturing at Katniss and I. "To get yourselves mixed with crap before the games even start! Wonderful! Take a look at my pair this year!" he shouts at the other mentors. "Been fucking up my shit since day one, my friends!"

"It wasn't us," Katniss says indignantly. "They came up to us and fucking threatened us for no apparent reason."

"Wo _Ho!_ Bad manners, Miss Everdeen, don't want to be catching that one on Live TV!" Haymitch says with a tut. "And, I don't give a rat's arse who started it. I'm your mentor. You do something stupid and it makes me look ten times more ridiculous than I already do. No matter who 'starts it', I want to see you end it. We clear?"

We both nod heads reluctantly and he turns to Cato instead who is looking rather shocked by our mentor. Haymitch shoves his bottle into Cato's still raised hand, the one that has attempted to strangle me not long ago.

"Take it, boy. You need to loosen up and it's bad wine anyways. Now, twelve follow me."

Katniss and I follow after him reluctantly and I glance back at Cato who looks close to chucking the bottle at the wall in frustration. As the elevator doors close behind us I hear Clove give a bark of laughter and shout: "Well that went well!" As the elevator rises, I groan and put a hand over my face. Way to go, Peeta. Now you've made both yourself and Katniss targets for the most ruthless guy on set. Don't even consider making it past the bloodbath now! Effie's crowing into my ear about not fighting before the games and simply recapping all the ruckus I've made. Haymitch however, claps us both on the back as the elevator dings and the four of us stumble out, Effie in the lead with a clipboard.

"Oh wonderful, new cutlery!" she says and rushes to examine them.

Haymitch walks to the kitchen which is illuminated in a strange artificial glow and fiddles around, somehow producing a bottle of spirits and another blue liquid that he sniffs first then gives the 'Haymitch Approval'. Katniss and I stand lost for a whole minute until Haymitch gathers us all around the kitchen bench and finally bursts out laughing.

"Got guts in you, you two have. Brutus came and told me you two were making a scene with his tributes. Man, that encounter sure made me thirsty."

Effie is absolutely adamant about his behaviour and taps her pen against the marble bench.

"Haymitch, I had so many potential sponsors coming to me today, asking about my two tributes. Asking about game-plans and strategies and I had nothing! You'd better start getting in shape or we'll be sending them into the arena totally unprepared!"

Haymitch pours himself another shot and sits down whilst mimicking her voice.

"Totally unprepared! Well so did I and I'm still kicking, aren't I?" he says with a laugh. "But, I did promise these two that 'sober time' is 'discussion time'. I think I'm sane enough to deal with a conversation so let's hear your game plan."

I have absolutely no idea and neither does Katniss. My only thought has been to send Katniss home and I haven't even come up with a plan yet.

"Well, I'll need a bow and arrow," Katniss replies tentatively. "It'll be the easiest way to find food."

"No saying if those will be in the bunch. But they always have a few knife vests, the stray spears and swords are a definite because those that can handle them are far and in between so many will be redundant anyways. Luckily, Bread Boy here has some experience. Those tributes from Two are lethal. I've heard rumours about those two in particular but all tributes from Two are trained and they'll be after the toughest competition first. If you're tough enough, they might let you join."

Join the Careers?

"That could be our game plan but this depends on how good you two really are. Lay low during training until there's an opportune chance. I would tell you to get good with their leader," he glowers at me pointedly. "But we've already accomplished that haven't we?"

"He was threatening us!" I spit angrily.

"It means respect! He sees you as competition! It went out of hand when you began to challenge him back. As the Alpha in his Career group, he'll make the offer and you'll accept. There is definitely no lashing back!" Haymitch retorts grumpily.

"So we were just supposed to stand and do nothing?" I reply heatedly.

There's silence as Haymitch once again examines me with beaver eyes. I can almost hear his tail hitting the kitchen seat calculatingly. He puts away the spirits after a while of hesitation and steadies himself.

"Okay, new proposal," he says decisively. "You two, I'm guessing, are already planning to stick together in the games."

We nod.

"This makes it even harder to push you into the Careers. They accept people one by one. You're not going to get in because he's in and vice-versa. Forget about 'laying low'. Find each member of the group at the station. Show off bit, intimidate and act friendly at the same time," he glances at Katniss. "This will mean becoming socially approachable."

Katniss flushes but stares him down angrily.

"I don't do socially acceptable," she says pointedly.

These two are so alike they clash easily, with their stubbornness and strong sense of self-will.

"Well for the games, you'll have to be. As for Cato, you two are going to have to do much better than what I've seen so far. Peeta, you're going to discreetly make up for your behaviour today. He's definitely not going to come apologise."

* * *

TBC…

* * *

**A/N: **I'm so happy to have gotten some feedback on this! You guys are really too kind!

I really had trouble trying to capture the personalities of the characters in this chapter, something Suzanne Collins does so well throughout the whole book. I have got my plot written out and I'm just hoping that it'll play out properly. Once again, thank you all for your reviews. They really make my day!

Please leave a comment!


	3. A Change Of Tactics

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter 3:

A Change of Tactics

* * *

"He's definitely not going to come apologise."

That's where Haymitch was mistaken.

After our talk, we each retired to our respective rooms to clean up and prepare for the dinner with Cinna and Portia. Effie was long gone to chat with the stylists and Haymitch went to award himself with a trip to the bar for his fantastic dedication to our cause. I watch him in disapproval with my arms crossed as he unhooks a coat and saunters out the door.

"A man needs to get paid, my boy," he'd said as he wanders into the elevator.

Indeed.

Now it was just Katniss, myself and a couple of avoxes in a giant underground compartment.

Katniss had locked herself in her room, requesting a good sleep and I'd wandered to my own, deciding that a good shower would be appropriate to get out the kinks in my shoulders. I'd stripped off slowly and tentatively stepped into the shower stall. At my first attempt I'd run face first into the glass, moaning before groping my way to find the proper entrance to the stall. After that things continued to go downhill. Nothing worked, everything was a massive array of complicated buttons and there was no end in sight. My 'relaxing' shower had ended up in myself jumping in and out of the glass stall as I was attacked by various machinery and multi-coloured bubbling concoctions that were sickeningly sweet as they attacked my eyes and every other available pore. When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, releasing swirls of steam into the bedroom, I smelt like roses and another hundred other flowers.

There's a sudden loud, calculated knock on the door and I sigh.

At least someone delivered Haymitch back before he passed out, probably dumping him at the door. My best guess are disgruntled Peacekeepers.

I wrap a soft white towel securely around my waist as the knocking continues impatiently. God, are all these people so rude?

"I'm coming!" I say as I wipe the rolling beads of water off my chest.

I push a button that reads 'dry' and a pleasant gust of warm air shimmers through my hair and after a few further blows and my hair was back into a loosely stylish do. I raise my eyebrows. Huh. Not bad. The knocking starts again, this time louder and I sigh, walking out of my room. As I reach the front door, I'm still wet and the towel is starting to slip.

"God, just leave him there," I start as I pull the door open but it's who's there that shocks me.

I almost let my towel fall.

Almost.

Haymitch is there, drunk as expected, but he's leaning off a much more unwelcome guest. Haymitch is half-falling over and it's Cato that's supporting him with one of the drunkard's arm looped around his strong broad shoulders. He's dressed in a fitting grey suit with a black dress shirt and a silver tie that he's loosened. A fresh sheen of sweat coats his forehead and I remind myself that the District Two floor is quite a walk from here. I'm surprised he's put in the effort. He's probably getting ready for his own dinner with the stylists and I can't help but admire his good looks and physique that is only further emphasized by his carefully selected clothes. I mentally smack myself. Focus, Peeta. He looks me once over and there's a dazed look in his eyes as he graces me with a trademark sarcastic smile. I realise how I must look, half-naked and probably as if I've been slapped in the face and I hurriedly school my features.

"Thanks," I voice curtly and haul Haymitch in.

I just about slam the door in his face in embarrassment but as I do so a leather-clad foot whips out and stops it in its path. I haul it back open with a sigh. He's looking very amused now, gold eyes twinkling with mirth in the light.

"Not going to invite me in?"

I cough awkwardly and shake my head.

"You've caught me while indecent," I say uneasily but I'm not quick enough as he kicks the door open with his heel.

"It'll do," he says with a smirk, walking in confidently and dumping the rest of Haymitch's weight on me.

"Well, do come in," I reply sarcastically as I quickly dive down to keep my towel from slipping any further. "Give me a moment, will you? I need to take Haymitch to his room and put on some clothes."

"And who says I have any desire to stay?"

"Well then, by all means, you know where the door is," I say with gritted teeth.

"Relax, princess. As my presence seems to annoy you, I think I'll grace you with it for a little longer." He continues with a chuckle. "What are you, a pansy? You smell like a fucking flower field."

I really can't believe this guy, the nerve he has to do this on my own floor. I mumble something about faulty showers before I turn away but as I begin to drag Haymitch down the hall, Cato catches up with me and grabs Haymitch by the arm again, transferring the weight onto himself.

"Let me," he offers. "Go get changed."

I watch his back as he disappears with a raised brow but nonetheless retire to my room. I make sure to lock it firmly before throwing the towel to the side and slipping on a pair of black silk dress pants Effie has already lain out for our dinner. I pull on the white button up dress shirt and pull on the tie loosely. I don't bother to do it up properly. I hear the sound of impatient knocking on my door this time and I pull it open to see Cato's impeccable suit splattered with drying vomit. I put a hand over my nose and mouth instinctively but I'm too slow to stop the laugh that escapes. He smiles briefly but his eyes harden in remembrance of something and he adjusts his tie nervously. I look up at him as he clears his throat anxiously.

"I came for a reason," he says confidently but by the sudden pitch in his voice it becomes obvious how uncomfortable he is.

"And?"

He covers his eyes with his hand for a second before staring at me evenly.

"I came here in hope that you would accept my…" he pauses as if something is physically paining him. "_Apology_ for my earlier behaviour."

By the relief on his face is seems as if that was equivalent to overcoming his worse fears. He looks at me expectantly like a child and when I finally recover from my initial shock I raise a hand to pat his cheek again. I put on my sweetest smile.

"No."

I turn around and it takes him a while to register my words before he explodes.

"What? _No?_ In fact, you should be the one fucking apologising. God, I can't believe I agreed to this," he shouts.

"Ha!" I shout triumphantly, turning around wildly and brandishing my finger. "I knew it! Clove set you up to this, didn't she?"

He looks at me surprised and then buries his head in his hands.

"Oh god, did that little witch tell you everything?"

I stare at him quizzically.

"What? I've never even spoke to Clove. What the hell are you on about? She just seems like a decent person, is all," I say confusedly.

"And I'm not?" Cato offers with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I'm sure beneath all that cockiness and vomit there's a good enough guy. At least you had the guts to come apologise and I guess that's admirable. Go to my ensuite, take a shower. You stink," I reason.

He edgily complies but glares at me before closing the bathroom door.

"For the record, this doesn't make us that rubbish called friends," he yells angrily. "And I'm not a softie for princesses like you."

"Just shut up," I say and slam the door shut on him. "You're an arse as soon as you open your mouth!"

I lay on my back on the soft golden sheets, my head resting on my hands as I contemplate the strangeness of my current predicament. Cato, District Two, has just seen me half-naked, brought my drunk mentor back up several floors, been vomited on, has goddamn apologised to me and is now showering in my ensuite. I shake my head at the very absurdity. I hear a shout from the bathroom but I'm not worried.

"Fuck! Fucking glass!"

I smiled maliciously and cross my fingers that he'll gets sprayed with scalding water.

"Fuck! Fucking water! This is ridiculous!"

I let him deal with the Capitol crap himself and when I finally hear the door creak open, I smile and sit up.

"Enjoy that?" I say but my grin drops off my face as soon as I see him.

I just manage to get a look at the top half of him, his pack of eight glistening with water as he steps out of the bathroom naked. I don't allow myself to indulge any further and duck under the sheets, hissing obscenities as I do so.

"Put some clothes on!" I shout, muffled by the blankets.

My face is burning. Unfortunately, due to a badly-timed crush, a lack of time to wank off and my unquestionable attraction to men, seeing Cato stark naked wasn't the best thing for me right now. Luckily though I had the blankets to cover my little problem and he seemed to not notice. My red face was probably evidence enough for him and I hear him chuckle. The sheets are now raised above my head as I wait for him to find pants from my endless wardrobe. He orders a few different sizes, dries his hair. He tears away the blanket from my blushing face.

"Liked what you saw, princess?" he states with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

Seeing his face so close snaps me out of my daze and I push his face away angrily and begin to shove him towards the door. He seems to find my embarrassment the funniest thing ever.

"Don't call me that, bastard!" I shout as he saunters down my hallway. "And no, don't flatter yourself!"

"Whatever you say, princess!" he bellows back before closing the door behind him.

I fume as I watch the closed door but double-take when I hear Haymitch's annoying guffaws behind me. There he is, completely sober, watching me thoughtfully like a cat that just got the cream. He leans against the marble kitchen counter casually, pouring himself spirits but apart form that he seems perfectly stable and sane. Everything suddenly clears out.

"You weren't drunk at all," I accuse.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, _princess_," he says with a cackle. "It worked didn't it?"

"What did?" I say confusedly.

"He apologised, a total step forward and that wasn't even on my account. I actually took him here to get you two to sort out your issues with fists but it seems like they were solved in a different way entirely." He says with a seductive look.

"Get pissed," I spit angrily.

"Now that I think about," he ponders out loud. "I really do deserve it! Now, at dinner, we're going to sit down with your stylists, discuss some new tactics. _Now_, I'm going to get pissed. So please excuse me, you're highness."

I dearly hope he doesn't bump into Cato again. I've had my share of humiliation for today, I believe. As he bows at me sardonically I ball up my towel and throw it as hard as I can at the back of his head.

I miss by a good metre.

* * *

"Peeta!"

I'm stunned as I hear my name called in three different pitched voices, all equally excited and jittery.

I turn and at the door stands Portia, flanked by Fortune and Rose, followed by a quietly amused Cinna who winks at me and Katniss with his eyes which are lined in shimmering silver this time. Fortune and Rose are around me in seconds, jumping up and down like children and I smile at their oblivious antics. Portia opens her arms to Katniss and Cinna stretches his hand out to me with a warm smile.

"Cinna, your partner's stylist. We never officially met."

"Peeta, Peeta Mellark," I say in a raised voice to be heard above Rose's excited talk.

"Decided to bring these two along," he says with a fond glance at the two. "Wouldn't let us leave without them."

"Sounds like them," I say with a laugh.

After an exchange of names, we're seated around a long table and avoxes stream into the room with platters of food. Haymitch seems to have sobered up by now but I smile nastily as I catch him rubbing his temple, no doubt hung-over. He answers my little jab by pouring himself another glass bubbling pink champagne and raising his glass to me. Cinna makes a toast to the District Twelve tributes and our glasses clink above the steam of the food. As we all settle into the main course, Haymitch brings up what he'd mentioned earlier, making eyes contact with especially me. He grabs a butter knife and tinkles his glass hilariously and when this doesn't work, resorts to shouting.

"OY! Over here!," he shouts and all heads turn to him. He stands up and takes a gulp of wine. "Good. Okay, I'd like to request a change in game-plan. As you all know, earlier this evening our darling children made a ruckus and got on the bad side of the tributes from District Two. I'd like to now propose a new way to get our tributes into the Career Bonds, both of them. As a few of you know, the original plan was to befriend each Career and hopefully squeeze ourselves in without much of a fuss or racquet. This seems practical but when it comes down to it, Cato, our leader, will most likely turn on us and stab our backs quicker than we can say 'liquor'!"

There's a murmur of agreement through the table.

"We want our Katniss and Peeta here to make the final few. By eliminating Cato, the Career Bonds will be greatly damaged and most likely severed. After then, you two can hopefully escape and work together to the end."

He stops briefly and leaves a question hanging. What to do if there's just the two of us left?

"So Cato is not one to trust easily and he's fiercely competitive. Being his competition will only get us killed too soon. We have to get him wrapped around our finger and then, when he's least aware, we can get rid of him. Now," he says and gestures at me. "Here is an interesting development. Cato seems to have some strange connection with our boy, Peeta. I saw it when he came to our compartment this afternoon."

Katniss' eyes question me and I remind myself to discuss this later to her. I swallow heavily now. It can't be. Can they really expect me to do that?

"Peeta," Haymitch says, looking at me evenly. "Will you do yourself a favour?"

I struggle to crack a smile.

"And what favour is that, old man?"

"You're going to fake a relationship. At the interviews, you're given several minutes and you'll be asked several questions. Caesar and I are good pals, go way back. I've inserted a question for him to ask you. Once he does, you're going to answer you've got someone special, someone you've got your eyes on, but you won't give it away who. You'll just imply they're here with you and that winning will do you no good. Some will assume its Katniss here, of course but throughout the games, you're going to make it apparent to both the crowd and Cato that it's him. At some point, if you're good enough you can dispose of him and people will deduct that you were simply acting to keep Katniss, your true love, safe and sound. They'll love it, label you cunning, deceptive and yet the romantic at the same time," he says.

Then he sits back down and looks around. Everyone's eyes are trained on me and I can see Katniss watching my actions intently. The weight of the world is on my shoulders. Katniss and my lives depend on my one decision. Whose life is more valuable to me, Katniss' or the District Two boy whose only real contact with me was when he attempted to choke me against a wall? Cato probably is ready to kill us anytime. But was I so cruel, so cunning? Could I even perform such a betrayal? Liam's voice runs through my head.

"_Don't change, Peeta."_

Has it come down to this?

"Okay," I answer.

Portia gives me a comforting pat on the back and then joins the round of applause that runs across the table. Haymitch raises his glass and watches me.

"To Peeta, Katniss, and against all odds, Victory," he voices loudly over the racquet, toasting with his eyes pinned on me.

It's murmured across our small party and we rise to clink our glasses together and the dinner concludes. As Katniss farewells Cinna and Fortune and Rose are chattering goodbyes with Effie, Portia puts a warm hand on my shoulder then cradles my face in her two hands. She raises my chin to face her and I feel a sudden nostalgia for my mother of all people.

"Peeta, c'mon," she says softly, tilting my face. "Chin up. You can do this, I know you can."

I put one hand of my own over hers.

"Thank you, Portia." I whisper.

Their party departs and Effie waves us goodnight with her usual cheeriness. Katniss gives me a firm look that says 'talk to me later' and walks down the hallway to her room.

When Haymitch hears the clink of her door shutting, he sits down on one of the large beige couches, patting the spot beside him. I silently take a seat at his side. He takes a slender remote from the glass table and clicks a few buttons, pausing as it land on a particular number. The numbers flash across the screen briefly and I wonder the meaning behind it. Fifty, what meaning could it have? We start watching the reaping of a Hunger Game, the Quarter Quell. As usual, the first few districts show strong, healthy tributes, with a few volunteers. The tribute become further bedraggled as the districts go along and when it finally reaches District Twelve and the boy is reaped, my heart goes into my throat. It's a young man, handsome, strong and his blonde hair is shining, almost blinding in the sunlight as he walks onstage. He takes a Capitol woman's hand as he walks up and shakes hands with his fellow tributes. Then he shoots a sarcastic smile to the cameras and my fears are confirmed true.

It's Haymitch Abernathy, young, sixteen and strong.

A young woman, classically beautiful, screams his name from the crowd and breaks down sobbing as he walks past her without a glance. I watch the Haymitch next to me now and see his facial expression actually morph into something other than sarcasm for once. Its sadness and it ages him by almost ten years. Was she his girlfriend? What happened to her?

I know it's difficult for him to watch this.

"Haymitch, please, you don't hav—"

He cuts me off halfway.

"No, this is necessary. You need to understand," He states gruffly. "When you do, you'll see."

We speed watch the 50th Hunger Games but by the time it's ended, I've gotten the basic plot. Haymitch was cunning and with that, he got out alive.

Maysilee Donner, his fellow tribute who he'd shook hands with, had been used by him. For her naivety and innocence she developed an unbreakable bond with him and he used her to protect himself. When it came down to her death, Haymitch still bent at her side, held her as she died with something akin to love and despair in his eyes. But had it really been love in the end? No. His love had been far away with the beautiful girl back home, the only one he could ever really love. I watched him run to the force field, clutching his spilling intestines, watched him smile in relief as the District One girl's head split in half as her axe rebounded. I saw him collapse onto his knees with a pained happiness that he was going back to her. The TV clicks off just as he is being crowned by President Snow.

"What happened to her?" I ask.

"She's dead," he replied blankly, clearing his throat. "My little stunt with the force field cost me her life, along with that of my family. They took her away and I never saw her again, any of them, didn't even bother sending me back ashes. There was nothing to return to eventually except a bottle of liquor and an empty house."

How old was he? Sixteen, wasn't it? I can't imagine such a thing happening to me, to go back to a house that stunk of death and despair.

He clears his throat again.

"But you move on. Drink away another quarter of your life until you find something else to give a shit about," he says sadly, nodding at me. "I know your type. I was once exactly like you, the games changed me. They'll change you too."

"_Don't ever change, Peeta,"_

"No they won't," I say confidently. "I'm more than just a piece in their games."

"Who'd you make that promise to?" Haymitch asks with a bark of pitiful laughter.

"My brother," I answer determinedly.

"Well," Haymitch says. "Then there's your reason to go home, isn't it?"

"I want Katniss home. There are people who love her back home, those that need her. I told someone important I'd do everything in my power to take her back home. He loves her, like you loved her. Her death…" I stop and swallow heavily. "Her death will break him."

"And you're brother?"

"He'll move on," I reply positively. "Remember me, he will, and then he'll be proud the games never changed me."

Haymitch regards me with beaver eyes then stands up muttering about needing a drink. Somehow he stops himself from going to the spirits and simply pours himself a mixed fruit refreshment. I try to picture the sixteen year old Haymitch, young and healthy. It momentarily closes up my throat as I imagine the last minutes of the girl's life. First to find out of his victory, to experience the relief that he was to come home, only to be followed by her untimely death. What did the Capitol do to her? I don't dare ask. Cut off her tongue, turn her into an Avox? No. They're never so merciful. It's better she's dead, so she's out of her misery. I'm torn.

"A fall from grace is never pretty," Haymitch says absentmindedly.

He's immediately got my attention again.

"I've mentored many great children, kind souls and I've watched every one perish, Game after Game. Innocent before they're in the Games but sooner or later they lose their minds, lose the good will. The Capitol doesn't make the Games to kill off twenty-three children or not just to thin us out. It's to show the strongest of us are driven mad. You haven't seen all the mentors, my boy. They each have their story, each more horrific than the last. We never really leave the Games."

"You're alive, aren't you?" I say. "Surely that must count for something."

"There isn't a day I where I didn't regret surviving. Elizabeth, she'd be alive otherwise."

Elizabeth. That must be her, a pretty name.

"If I change, I change for the better." I reply.

"Boy, you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he says as he pops in a few ice cubes. "I picked you. You and Katniss because I saw myself in both of you, in her stubborn closed-off nature that still exists in me now and the goodness in you that the Games killed. I picked you because I wanted to preserve what you had. It felt like I was saving myself by giving you a chance and so I chose you over her. But one question, Peeta, do you actually love Cato?"

I pause. If our relationship happened anywhere else, maybe yes. But in the short period before the games and during, what's the chance I'd fall for such a brutal guy like him?

"No,"

"Then, you must plan for your own survival, or Katniss'. Whatever you choose in the end, I won't hold it against you. I can't change you and if the Games won't either, then I'll be watching you fighting for Katniss day and night."

His belief in me actually stunts me for a second.

"An idea, Peeta, for you now before the Games. Start writing letters. To your brother, your parents, your home. Explain what's happened, what's happening and it'll drag you through the games. I did it myself, all addressed to Elizabeth. Oh course, they never got to her."

"Then how is there any chance it'll get to them either?" I ask.

"I'll make sure of it,"

There's silence as we weigh up each other before Haymitch growls.

"Go to bed now, you're beginning to annoy me."

"The feeling's mutual, drunkard," I say but we share one more meaningful glance before I begin to head back to find Katniss.

Then, for the first time ever, I'm grateful to have Haymitch Abernathy as my mentor.

* * *

TBC…

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry that I'm updating this so slowly! These chapters take longer to write than I anticipated. Once again, thank you to my reviewers! Each of your comments are loved! Please review!


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